Seaside Harmony Part 18

It was impossible not to, especially with Caroline aiming her camera at Gracie from every angle. She even posed for the camera and then put the flowers in some water. She'd arrange them later. Right now she needed to get cleaned up for dinner, which meant taking a shower. She only hoped that wouldn't lead to another emergency.

"How does the table look?" Caroline asked Gracie as she placed her flower arrangements on the tiger oak buffet. It was elegantly carved with winged griffins that could scare anyone if they happened upon the piece in the middle of the night. There were already flowers on a mahogany sideboard and in the middle of the mahogany table that seated fourteen. Its mahogany was stunning, even with nicks and gouges from well over a hundred years of wear.

The roses' perfume floated around the room. The windows all through the inn had been thrown open early that morning to let in fresh air. The fragrance inside now was sweet. Everything was simply gorgeous, if you could look past the walls that had been stripped of layer upon layer of wallpaper and now bore only streaks of glue.

Gracie turned away from the cut gla.s.s vase she was filling with roses and looked at the place settings Caroline had created with the mix and match sets of china, stoneware, gla.s.sware, and silver.

"Perfect." Gracie smiled. "It looks like a page from Country Living or House Beautiful. I'm sure you took a picture or two?"

"Or three or four. I just wish the washing machine hadn't gone on the fritz." Caroline laughed at the pretty table setting with its rather mundane paper napkins. "We'll probably have to buy more cloth napkins before we open the inn. In the long run, it'll be cheaper to wash them than to buy paper napkins all the time. Besides, they'll look much prettier."

"I'll have to teach you and Sam how to arrange flowers. It'll have to be done every day when the B and B's open, and with so many different things blooming in the garden, you'll have a lot to pick from."

"You mean we can't just cut whatever and stick them in a jar?"

"Not if you want to keep a steady flow of guests." Gracie turned back to yet another arrangement.

"Smells great in here." Bill Dekker walked into the dining room, looking rather spiffy in an aquamarine polo shirt and khakis. His eyes were such a pretty blue behind his little round gla.s.ses. If Gracie noticed at all, she sure didn't show it.

"The maple chicken Sam and Jamie are cooking up smells like heaven," Bill said. "I've gotta admit, I've never mastered cooking. The kitchen was always my wife's domain, and unless I wanted to wake up with my head detached from my body, I stayed away when she was wielding a knife or vegetable peeler."

"Art was forever in my kitchen." Gracie turned toward Bill. "He was always taste-testing my food, to the point where he wasn't all that hungry when we sat down to eat. He liked to think he was setting a good example for the kids by not overindulging at mealtime." Gracie laughed. "But boy, oh boy, did he love food, especially my pot roast."

"One of my favorites. Haven't had it in heaven knows how long." He shrugged. "I've got a bad habit of going in to town to eat."

"Well, as long as you're working here," Gracie said, "lunch and dinner are on us."

"Breakfast too," Sam said, walking into the dining room, taking off a frilly white ap.r.o.n she'd bought from what was rapidly becoming one of their favorite stores on Main Street.

"Just don't complain if you get fat," Jamie added as she and George followed Sam into the room. "Mom likes sugar and b.u.t.ter."

"She watches too much Paula Deen," Gracie offered, her laugh filling the dining room at the same time Caroline heard the knock at the front door. Max heard it too, and he was off in a flash, barking at the intrusion, desperate to see who was at the door.

"That didn't sound at all like Shirley's cane hitting the door." Caroline headed toward the foyer, trying to ignore the cobwebs they'd missed when cleaning. She made a mental note to tackle them tomorrow.

"It's Mrs. Addison," Caroline called out behind her. "And she's brought someone with her."

Gracie, Bill, Sam, George, and Jamie had all come into the foyer with Caroline and Max to greet their first guests, and laughed at Caroline as she struggled with the front door. "Stop barking, Max," she chastised her companion, who backed away and quieted down when she was able to throw open the door.

Pastor Wildes was on the verge of knocking again. Instead he smiled, and held out what must have been Shirley's cranberry cobbler. "Hope you don't mind my joining you." His smile looked a tad uncomfortable. "Shirley invited me and said she was sure you wouldn't mind."

"We don't mind at all," Caroline said, inviting the reverend and Shirley into the inn. "In fact, welcome. It's so nice to have you both with us this evening."

"Stan has this rather obnoxious habit of calling me every day to see how I'm doing. One would think I'm old and frail! All that aside, he's a good walking partner, and I didn't quite feel like walking over here on my own tonight."

"Shirley has a tendency of waving her cane at the seagulls and any stray person walking along the dunes," Pastor Wildes said. Caroline wondered if she dared call him Stan. "It's never a wise idea to let her out alone, especially in the evenings. She can be lethal."

"I've only been arrested once." Shirley harrumphed. "Handcuffed and everything. A police officer cuffed me, threw me into the back of his car, and hauled me off to jail. He felt he had to put on a show."

"You hit a young man with your cane."

"He threw a bottle of soda on the beach. What was I supposed to do? Ignore it? Not on your life."

"Well, you came out of it all unscathed." Pastor Wildes turned to his hosts and grinned. "They released her into my custody not ten minutes after arriving at the station. No charges were filed."

"No charges were filed against that young vandal either." Shirley looked at Caroline and smiled at last. "So, are we still having maple chicken? I'm starved."

It wasn't long before they were all seated around the table and Jamie and Sam brought out the first course, a chopped shrimp Waldorf salad served on plain white china. The salad didn't need anything special to dress it up. It already looked pretty.

When Jamie and Sam were seated, Pastor Wildes lowered his head and offered a blessing. "Dear Lord, as You look down upon Caroline, Gracie, and Sam in their new home, the home that they will share with loved ones, friends, and strangers through the years, as they are sharing it tonight with us, we ask that You bless them and their home, the Misty Harbor Inn. And as we partake of the food they are generously sharing, as they go about the business of renewing the spirit of this inn, we ask that they be blessed with flowers so their house may always know beauty, bread so their house may never know hunger, salt so it may always have flavor, a candle so the house will never know darkness, and sugar so that life will always be sweet." Pastor Wildes looked up at all those gathered around the table. He smiled warmly. "Amen."

In moments they were eating, laughing, sharing stories of their lives, especially Pastor Wildes, who had endless stories to tell about his days as a preacher. "Here's one I particularly like," Pastor Wildes said. "It didn't happen to me, but I'm sure it happened to someone. It goes something like this." He cleared his throat. "I was at the beach with my children when my four-year-old son ran up to me, grabbed my hand, and led me to the sh.o.r.e, where a seagull lay dead in the sand. Daddy, Daddy, what happened to him?' the little boy asked. 'He died and went to heaven,' I replied. My son thought a moment and then said, 'And G.o.d threw him back down?'"

"You get used to him after a while," Shirley said flatly and then allowed a grin to touch her face as everyone else was laughing. "He tells endless stories over dinner, and sometimes on Sunday, he gets carried away. Isn't that right, Bill?"

"I plead the Fifth." Bill winked. "I'd rather stay on the pastor's good side. There are stories around the island that he has an extra-special connection with the Man Upstairs, and I don't want him telling tales that might get me in trouble."

"Now would I do that, Bill, my friend? You could always respond to the Man Upstairs and remind Him of some of my less reverent jokes and stories from high school."

"I'm so glad we've moved on from those days, Pastor. I kind of like the you of today. I wasn't so fond of the kid I knew back then."

"G.o.d led me to my calling. Kicking and screaming at first, but it seems He knew better than I did what was best for me in the long run."

"Do the three of you go on and on like this whenever you're together?" Gracie asked, looking happier than she had in ages. There was no way for Caroline to miss the bit of a twinkle in her eyes or the lightness in her voice. Gracie just seemed happy here. No doubt about it.

"We show a little decorum on occasion," Pastor Wildes said. He wiped his mouth with the flimsy paper napkin. "But honestly, Caroline, our world can be somber enough without the Lord's children helping to keep it that way. I believe He prefers having us jolly. Life's too short for anything else, and I fully intend to take my jokes with me when I'm called home. I think G.o.d might appreciate an extra laugh or two, especially when He's having to deal with too much tragedy."

They all nodded, and Pastor Wildes leaned back in his chair and let out a contented sigh. "It's nice to have some life in this old place again. I haven't been in here in decades, and I can't wait to see it when you've finished restoring it."

"You were here before?" Caroline asked.

He nodded. "My mom would drag me here when I was a kid."

"That seems to have been a rite of pa.s.sage here on Nantucket," Gracie said. "You weren't forced to sip a proper English tea, were you? In dainty china cups?"

The reverend nodded. "I certainly was. Didn't like it then, don't like it now."

"And here I've given you iced tea with dinner," Sam said, worry on her face. "You should have said something."

"Ah, don't worry at all about it, Sam. You may have noticed that I haven't touched it. I'm not one to complain about anything-with the exception of Shirley, and possibly Bill. If I don't like something, I simply ignore it. That goes for TV shows, politics, world affairs, and how boys and girls dress these days. Saves a lot of upset that way."

"Good words to live by," Caroline said, wishing she could be that way all of the time.

"I do my best, Caroline. I'm sure we all do."

Later that night, Caroline and George strolled along the beach. It was their last evening together for at least a few more weeks. "Wish I could stay longer," he said, tossing a piece of driftwood for Max to chase after. The waves rolled onto the sh.o.r.e, over their bare feet, and then back out again.

"You've already devoted way too much of your time to help us out."

"I think I've devoted more time to the Packard than anything else."

"That's a part of the inn. A big part. In fact, as soon as it's out of the carriage house and fixed up, I want to take pictures of it in front of the inn. It'll look perfect on the Web site. Sam and Gracie and I think it should be incorporated into the inn's new logo that we're having created."

"I haven't stripped any wallpaper. I haven't-"

"You're going to meet me in England in October and help me clean out Briar Rose. That counts for a lot." Caroline stopped. She turned toward him and gripped his arms. "And you've offered endless amounts of moral support. A lot of other men would have balked at me and my sisters buying the inn, yet you've done nothing but encourage."

"That's what friends do, and"-he swept his hands through her windblown hair, tucking thick locks behind her ears-"the way I see it, friends don't come any better than you."

George kissed the top of her head as he'd done so very often over the years. She was going to miss him . . . more than she ever thought possible.

What do you think of Bill Dekker? Caroline asked Gracie as they stretched out beneath the cool sheets and lightweight bedspreads on their twin beds. They had painted their room a soft blue, the color of the sky on a winter morning, but it looked silver in the moonlight.

"Bill Dekker?" Gracie asked, rolling onto her side. The new sheets crinkled. "He seems nice. Why?" Suddenly Gracie's eyes widened. "You aren't interested in him, are you? I mean, I always thought you were secretly in love with George, that you just didn't want to tell anyone because, well, just because."

"I'm not at all interested in Bill Dekker. I just find him interesting, and I thought you might too."

Gracie's eyes narrowed and again she rolled over onto her back. "I think he's nice, but that's all. Caroline, a lot of people have tried fixing me up in the last couple of years, and I know they mean well, but I was in love with Art for forty years. I don't think I could ever fall in love again."

"Never?" Caroline couldn't quite believe her ears. Gracie of all people was meant to be in love, to have a man at her side. She'd never lived alone. It just didn't seem right, and she seemed so lonely. "Are you sure?"

"I've never really given it all that much thought, but yes, Caroline, I'm sure. That doesn't mean I can't have a male friend-whether that's Bill or someone else."

"You have lots of friends. You have me and Sam and your kids, but that's not the same as having a special friend."

"And you have George. Can you honestly tell me you've never thought about marrying him?"

"If I ever married anyone, I suppose it would be George. But I've never wanted to marry anyone. I like my independence. Always have."

"Well, couldn't I have a relationship like that someday way off in the future? With a male friend?"

Caroline sighed. She gave that question some thought, but it didn't seem likely. "I suppose you could."

"Good. Now that that's settled, could we go to sleep?"

Caroline yawned. "I suppose so."

Caroline turned on her side away from Gracie and listened to her sister's soft breathing. Max was curled up in his basket on the floor next to her bed, snoring peacefully. Through the open window she heard the lap of waves on the sh.o.r.e and felt a cool breeze whispering into the bedroom.

"Gracie?" she asked, trying to keep her voice a whisper.

"Hmm?"

"You're still awake?"

"I wouldn't be talking to you if I'd been able to fall asleep."

"It feels good here, doesn't it?"

"These pillows aren't the best. Next time we shouldn't go so cheap. In fact, I think we should invest in some good down pillows and offer our guests a choice. The bed and pillows leave such a lasting impression-and we'll want our guests to return."

"Oh, Gracie, I wasn't really talking about the pillows." She chuckled. "I suppose you've already added pillows to one of your lists?"

It was Gracie's turn to chuckle now. "You know, when we were much, much younger, and we shared a bedroom, you'd talk my ear off most every night."

"I would?"

Caroline could sense Gracie nodding her head.

"You were so much like Mom. Such big dreams," Gracie said. "I remember your telling me that someday, when you were older, you wanted to be rich. You wanted to fly to England, buy a British racing green Triumph sports car, and spend the next year or two touring the country."

"I said that? I made it to England, but I never had a Triumph. But I did spend a week hitchhiking in Scotland."

Gracie rolled over and in the near darkness, Caroline could see her grinning. "Did you really?"

"No, silly. I might have been a nomad for quite a long time, and I might have done a lot of traveling on the cheap, but I was a sensible nomad. Can you imagine what Mom would have done if she'd heard that I'd been hitchhiking?"

"I remember she could give us that look that let you know you were in trouble and if you didn't straighten up and fly right, you were in for it when Dad got home."

"And he was a softie."

This time Gracie yawned, trying her best to cover it up with her hand. "Can we go to sleep now?"

"Just one more thing."

"What's that?"

"I want to find some of the best pictures of Mom here on Nantucket. Some with us, some with Dad, most just of her and frame them. There are a lot of nooks and crannies around here, and a lot of flat surfaces. I'd like to put a little of Mom all over the house; let everyone get to know her, as if she were really here."

Caroline could hear Gracie sniff back a tear. "She'd like that. I'd like that." She sniffed. "I'll put it on one of my lists first thing in the morning."

"Oh, there's no need for that, Gracie. I won't forget. You won't either."

An almost icy wind blew across Caroline's shoulder, and she tugged at the bedspread, which had slipped down past her waist. She shivered and tucked her hands under her pillow for a touch of warmth. Outside she heard the hoot of an owl, and the fluttering of wings.

Max stirred in his bed. Caroline could see the whites of his eyes. She watched his eyelids flutter and then close, and he began to snore again.

She rose just a bit and looked at the clock on the other side of Gracie's bed. It was almost three in the morning, way too early to get up. She closed her eyes again and tried to get back to sleep. She didn't dare try to talk to Gracie again. She was sound asleep, her breathing deep as she rested comfortably.

Caroline's mind raced, thinking about the Web site. She had a lot of time to create it, although she imagined she should try and have it ready before Christmas. Hotels, resorts, and B and Bs filled up fast on Nantucket, and people made their reservations early. With the right advertising and promotion, she might find people wanting to make reservations before the holidays and then surprise a loved one with a Misty Harbor Inn brochure tucked away in a gaily wrapped gift box.

More and more ideas came to her, all sorts of promotions. The annual Daffodil Festival, for one. That would be next May, right about the time to open the inn for the season. She could see a Web page with daffodils in the background and the b.u.t.tercup yellow-Main Street Yellow, if she wanted to get technical-Misty Harbor Inn at the forefront. Gracie, who simply had to be at the inn when they opened, could arrange daffodils in vases. They would give them away as a special treat for every guest. Tulips would follow. Iris. Then big bouquets of roses and hydrangeas. Maybe even sunflowers.

Max yipped quietly in his sleep. A bad dream, Caroline imagined. She opened her eyes to take a peek at her friend just as his head popped up. "What's wrong, boy?"

Max's ears rose. He stared off toward the closed bedroom door. He growled low, baring his teeth.

Then Caroline heard it. There was a thud upstairs. Was it another plumbing disaster? Footsteps! She swallowed hard. Max stood. He growled deep and low. She heard the sound again. Someone was creeping around upstairs.